


Bee Mine

by MalMuses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bees, Cas is lonely, Dean Crochets, Domesticity, Fluff, M/M, Sam Eats Greens, Smol Things, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 10:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15947603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses
Summary: Human and lonely in the bunker, Cas is cheered when a mystery craftsperson starts leaving him tiny bees.





	Bee Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a smol submission for DeanCas Smol Things 2018 - A smol fic by me, with smol arts by the awesome [Nera_Solani.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nera_Solani)
> 
> Kindly beta'd by the delightful [captainbunnicula.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kradarua)

 

 

It was the middle of winter when the bees started to appear.

The first one Castiel found nestled in his favorite coffee mug, the one with tiny insects and honeycomb shapes that Sam had given him at Christmas. The small crochet bee was lucky it didn’t get a hot Sumatran-blend bath, as it wasn’t even seven a.m. and Castiel did _not_ do mornings well.

He was tiny, slightly lumpy but charming, and Castiel had no idea where he might have come from. For some reason, he didn’t feel inclined to ask. He slipped the bee into the pocket of his sweatpants and shuffled sleepily back to his room.

 

 

The second bee appeared a couple of days later. Dean had been bugging him to do some laundry, having spent several hours patiently tutoring Castiel in his preferred method before letting him loose with the machine. It now seemed that Castiel was expected to do it every few days; he didn’t complain, glad to be able to help, but he rather hated the process. Oh, to be able to zap everything clean.

Sam liked plenty of fabric softener on his plaid. Behind the economy-sized bottle of Snuggle lurked the second black-and-yellow fellow.

“Hello there,” Castiel murmured in amusement, pulling him down from the shelf. Turning the bee in his hands, he realized that it was a fraction bigger than the first, but less lumpy. His mystery yarn artist was getting better.

Taking the small thing back to his room, Castiel balanced the roly-poly, ball-like bee next to his compatriot on the dresser. He smiled at them—they were quite adorable. Castiel had been missing bees, as it was the middle of winter, and seeing the little wooly insects perched in his room was consoling.

The third bee appeared amongst his piles of research notes in the library; the fourth, in the bathroom next to his razor. He almost missed the fifth, hidden sneakily in his sock drawer, though Castiel had seen no one enter his room.

The little yarn family grew, and along with them so did Castiel’s spirits. Being human was lonely and difficult, he was discovering. The fact that one of the handfuls of people who visited the bunker on a regular basis was leaving him these little gifts cheered him.

The little surprises were obviously handmade, the stitches of each baby bee firmer and surer than those of its predecessor. They were clearly the work of someone who was learning. The clue, he thought, was in the hiding of the small bees. Sam, he felt, would have no problem just giving him such a gift—he’d probably be enthusiastically telling Castiel all about his latest hobby. _“So get this, this yellow yarn is from a particular type of sheep that is only found—”_ He couldn’t see why Sam would hide them. He knew who might, though.

 

 

The next Saturday morning, after finding the tiniest bee to date in his left boot, Castiel bundled up to head out into the cold with Sam. Several towns over there was a year-round farmers market that even in the midst of winter had a surprising amount of variety. There were always interesting stalls from local artisans, artists, and antique dealers. It was a fun way to spend a morning, and Sam had a list of green things he wanted to obtain. Castiel didn’t—quite content with a cheeseburger— but he did have other plans.

“Got everything you wanted, Cas?” Sam queried when he was done shopping, offering him a hot cup of coffee with honey.

“Yes, thank you, Sam.” Castiel smiled secretly to himself, stashing his bags away in the trunk before they headed back to the bunker.

Later that night, Castiel took the little cloth bag he’d carried at the farmers market and tip-toed barefoot down the hall. He’d spent some time picking the softest, hand-dyed yellow and black yarns and a few hand-carved wooden crochet hooks. He hung the bag over the door handle of one of the nearby bedrooms, smiled, and padded off to bed.

The next day, during the daily quiet time when Sam was out on his morning run, there was a soft knock on Castiel’s bedroom door.

Dean stood awkwardly, a shy smile distracting from his bed-hair and crumpled pajama pants. He didn’t speak, his hands curled together in front of him, offering Castiel something hidden. Finding his own smile shy in return, Castiel reached out and cupped his hands, letting Dean drop the newest bee softly into his palms. They didn’t speak, but Castiel left the door open, and Dean watched as he took it to his dresser and added it to his growing yellow-striped family. By the time Castiel looked back up from positioning the chubby insect, Dean was gone.

Life at the bunker carried on as normal for a couple of days, and Castiel wondered if he’d spoiled it. He didn’t regret letting Dean know he solved the mystery of the fuzzy bee deliverer; the shy smile had been worth it. But Dean seemed no different, day to day, and Castiel knew better than to mention it.

On the fourth day, Castiel went to bed to find two little bees nestled together on his pillow. They were made with the soft yarn Castiel had picked out at the farmers market. Grinning, he gathered them up and added them to his little bee battalion. He was going to need somewhere else to store them, soon.

 

 

In the morning, he lay in bed considering whether he should go to Dean and attempt to talk to him about the little gifts. Dean hadn’t seemed to want to chat, but he needed to let Dean know how much the little bees meant to him, and how much better they made him feel. He thought Dean probably knew, he thought that was probably the point, but he wanted to be sure.

A knock at the door interrupted his cautious planning.

Dean stood in his doorway again, his hands held out just as they had been during his first in-person gift delivery. Castiel reached out automatically to receive his newest bee.

But it wasn’t a bee.

A small heart, similar in size to the bees, sat dramatically against Castiel’s pale palms. The stitches were perfect, tiny and neat. Turning it over with a wondering smile, Castiel saw the tiny wings attached to the back— the stitches slightly lumpy, uneven and utterly charming.

Castiel’s breath caught in his chest—such a human feeling. When he looked up, Dean wore the same shy smile he’d shown when he brought the bee to Castiel’s room a few days before.

“Dean…” Castiel ran his fingers over the carefully sewn wings, overwhelmed. “You made this for me, too?”

Dean nodded, shifting nervously. “It was all for you Cas, everything I made was for you. Sam had been on at me to find something to help me destress and I just thought…”

He trailed off, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his head.

“You thought of me.”

A nod.

“You saw that I was struggling, that I was sad, that I missed summer. That I was lonely.”

Dean's second nod was barely perceptible. “I did. I just wanted to do something to make you smile—I wasn’t sure if you’d accept them at first. Or if you’d know what I was trying to say.”

Castiel did smile, reaching to pull Dean in close. “Thank you.”

Hugging tight, their heartbeats thudding each against the other, Dean grinned. Slightly less shy, he ventured, “so you accept my bees?”

“And your heart, too,” Cas responded, squeezing the tiny crochet symbol in his palm.

 


End file.
